Regret
by Madeleine DeAngelo
Summary: Watch your steps before you regret doing something - you might not be able to say sorry. Ever.


**Before I start my new stories, I just wanted to do this piece dedicated to Goldenheart11, my friend Barbara, who I misunderstood at the beginning and it's too late for me to say sorry in the end, and anyone who's getting bullied, teased and everything else. It's. Just. Not. Right. You bullies are lucky I'm not in your school. REALLY lucky. What do you even get out of it? Anyway, this story is meant for bullies to read. **

**The story is entirely in Hamilton's point of view. He used to be a bully before the clue hunt, remember? **

* * *

><p>You entered the school. Everyone made way, squeezing into lockers, flattening themselves against the hall. You smile when you hear murmurs from people, "<em>Hamilton Holt . . . "<em>

One particular girl, who didn't notice you, stayed doing what she was doing before. You start to frown.

"Maybe you should show her who you are," one of your friends whisper to you. You nod, agreeing. So you walk up to her, and phony smile in your face.

She looks up, startled. She starts stuttering useless words: "I - I . . . D - Didn't see you c - coming . . . I - "

"Don't worry, dudette. We all know your a blubbering idiot. No need to prove anything," you say, casually. People snicker. Her face turns bright red, and her eyes are telling you: _"What did _I_ ever do? Why must you remind me of my we__aknesses?" _

~~~~~_(I)_~~~~~

She knew you. She knows your reputation. But she never stays out of your way, does she? Almost as if she wanted to be your -

"Friend."

You look at the voice behind you. Your surprised to see her.

"F - Friend? Want to be friends?" She managed.

She's your Chemistry partner. She wants to make truce.

"Tell me when you're done with our project. Make sure to include _my_ name," you simply say. She looks at you, wide eyed, and realizes the rejection.

"B - But it's a g - group - "

"Don't forget," you interrupt, walking away.

But she doesn't. She continues to follow your steps, correct your mistakes, and gives you credit for things you never did. Is she trying to make you feel guilty? How gullible. As if a skinny girl can fix a Holt. Your friends give you ideas: _"Make her life a living hell . . . " "Tell her to bug off . . . " "Show her who you _really_ are . . . "_

And, finally, you get the greatest idea.

You tell your sisters. They are the only ones who can help. And when you do tell them, Madison grins, but Reagan says,

"Why? What did she do to _you_? What _can_ she do to you?" You sigh, frustrated. Madison sighs, as well.

"Just listen. You guys can do it, can't you?" You say, ignoring Reagan's statement. They both nod, still a bit hesitant.

You hand them the spray cans and shove them into the girls bathroom, and head to the boys.

~~~~~_(Regret)_~~~~~

The next day, the last day of school, there's buzz all over school about those messages in the bathrooms. You find your self not smiling or laughing really. You can't feel triumphant for some reason. Those words in the bathroom couldn't have _really_ done something, could they? They weren't meant to leave something . . . Permanent, right? It was only meant to get her off of your back . . . Right? But, you find yourself wondering something you never thought would cross your mind: Was it worth it?

The principal and staff are going around asking questions: Who did it? Have you seen anyone looking suspicious? Where were _you_ when this happened?

You vow to yourself not to stutter, or hesitate. And when they asked you, you found yourself saying,

"I'm not sure. She was getting insulted by many people. Too many people who might have done it." And you pause. "Where is she?"

They thank you, and tell you nothing else about your last question.

For the rest of the day, you ponder about your question. She wasn't there during Chemistry, or Algebra, or English, or any other classes you two have together. None of her few friends have seen her, she left no trace in her locker and by the end of the day, you begin to regret -

_What? _You stand up straight. You don't regret. Tomas's don't regret anything they do. Cahills never think back. Holt's make no mistakes.

~~~~~_(What)~~~~~_

Summer. Here you are, in Grace Cahill's mansion. Her funeral. The matriarch of your family is dead. How . . . exciting.

As soon as you get there, you see the Cahill siblings. You expected it, they were Grace's favorite. Before you can blink, Madison is holding the boy, Dan, upside down.

"P - put - " The girl, Amy, can't seem to save her brother.

"I think she means 'Put me down!'" Dan exclaims. And Madison does - she drops him on his head. You don't mean to laugh, especially after the school incident. But you can't help it. That's just the way you are.

"M - M - Madison!" Amy protests.

You can't help but think of _her_. Amy is so much like _her_. And you - you're still the same.

When you and your family burns down Grace's mansion - you watch Reagan. She's not agreeing with anything. Is she going soft? What is she thinking? You know your Dad will question her if he ever notices.

On the train running through France, when your Dad attacks the Cahill's, you don't know what to think. Are you in awe? No. Something much . . . more different. Something more difficult. Something hard to understand yourself.

And you continue feeling like this throughout the hunt. You can't seem to grab on to something without feeling guilty - For what? You don't know.

And when you saw that your Old Burrito Uncle Alistair was going to get murdered, by your own _Dad_, you knew it was right to team up with Dan Cahill to save him. In a small part in your heart, you thought that maybe, _just maybe_, it would make up for saying and writing those things about _her_.

Would it?

~~~~~_(I)_~~~~~

In the end, you didn't win.

But it was okay. You felt okay. You knew it was the right thing to do. You have been ignoring the buzzing in your cellphone for a while now. You decide to check it.

The usual. Friends wondering where you are. News about the school. And -

You can't read the last message. Your phones dead. But you decide it doesn't matter - you'll hear about it when you get to school.

And when you get back to school, it isn't the same anymore. The people don't clear the halls when they see you. You don't mind - after what you've experienced in the hunt, you don't care about who you are. You don't _know_ who you are.

And then, the weirdest part, everyone seems to ignore you. Of course, your friends are still there. But they're acting weird too. What's going on?

You have been looking around, looking for the girl. You want to apologize for all those things you've done. For the words you wrote. Then you ask about _her_. They all go silent. You force out a small laugh, asking them what's wrong. Finally, one of your friends say,

"She killed herself."

"What?" You ask, still confused.

"The . . . Bathroom thing . . . Before the summer? The words we spray painted?" Your friend says, as if you've forgotten. Of course, you haven't. You can never forget. "Hamilton - What have we done?"

_We_? Yes. It _is_ 'We'. You were part of it. You're the reason she's not here.

Could those simple - yet hurtful - words have taken someone's life? It did. It has.

And those same words changed you. You're doing what you've always wanted to do - you joined the Computer Club. You've become nicer, and you keep contact with your cousins, all of them. You're ready to help when they need it. You're ready to help anyone now.

And, sometimes, when no one's looking, you sneak up to the cemetery and stand in front of her grave. _I'm sorry._ The words don't come out of your mouth - they stay in your brain.

If she were here, would you be able to tell her? Apologize? _I'm sorry. _You repeat it in your head over and over. _I'm sorry. _

~~~~~_(Said)_~~~~~

Can she hear you?

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><p><strong>Okay, I agree, not my best work, I don't write well when I'm in my sad moods. I was just in a really depressed mood today, and I started remember all of my friends, the people who I regret insulting, the words I regret saying, the words I wish I could tell the people I loved before they died<strong> **. . . Doesn't everyone feel like that at times?**

**Anyway, the girl is just this girl in Hamilton's school who tried to be friends with him, but instead, he bullied her. And when he and his friends spray painted some "words" in the bathrooms, she just couldn't take it and suicides. It's happened to my friend before - I still miss her, and I got the kids responsible for her death in trouble. For those of you who get bullied - I know you've heard this a thousand times before, but you are B.E.! Whatever junk they say, throw it out. Delete it from your brain. They don't know you, do they? Enjoy your lives :)  
><strong>


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